


There's Right Now

by jamwrites



Category: Captain America (Movies), Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Death, Finnpoe - Freeform, Force-Sensitive Finn, Gen, M/M, Self-Sacrifice, Stormpilot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-21 20:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7402261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamwrites/pseuds/jamwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes only one look into the messenger’s eyes for Finn to know something is wrong.</p><p>It’s late at night, verging on morning in the Resistance med bay, which is running at full capacity and more at the moment. Finn’s been running himself ragged for almost a full rotation, but he can only catch shreds of sleep. He can never justify resting when he could be helping others.</p><p>He’s working on a pilot whose starboard fuselage was blown off in a dogfight; her skin from the top of her knee all the way to her armpit is burned white, but there’s a chance she might live if he can just—</p><p>“Sir.” Someone touches his shoulder.</p><p>“Not now.” He has to keep working. If he stops now…</p><p>The hand clamps down on his shoulder. Not angrily, but urgently.</p><p>“Sir.”</p><p>**</p><p>A Star Wars/Captain America mashup about Captain America's "death" scene with Peggy in "The First Avenger"...only with Finn and Poe. Set some time after "The Force Awakens".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It takes only one look into the messenger’s eyes for Finn to know something is wrong.

It’s late at night, verging on morning in the Resistance med bay, which is running at full capacity and more at the moment. Finn’s been running himself ragged for almost a full rotation, but he can only catch shreds of sleep. He can never justify resting when he could be helping others.

He’s working on a pilot whose starboard fuselage was blown off in a dogfight; her skin from the top of her knee all the way to her armpit is burned white, but there’s a chance she might live if he can just—

“Sir.” Someone touches his shoulder.

“Not now.” He has to keep working. If he stops now…

The hand clamps down on his shoulder. Not angrily, but urgently.

“ _ Sir _ .”

Finn turns. The man before him is short, young, younger than even himself. The messenger swallows. His Adam’s Apple bobs like a greeting.

But it’s not his throat Finn is fixated on. It’s his eyes. He knows the look in those eyes. He knows because more often than not, it’s Finn who’s emerging from the med bay to talk with a group of people and he’s the one wearing those eyes.

“Where.” His voice is flat. Not a question. His mind is already racing out far ahead of him, running and running and  _ who is hurt, what’s wrong, what’s going on— _

“Control Room A-50.”

The words are barely out of the aid’s mouth before Finn is shouting for a replacement nurse, and when one finally comes he shoves the manila envelope of the injured pilot’s med files into the nurse’s chest and then he’s jogging, no, sprinting through the halls.

_ Rey. Rey, what’s wrong? Where are you?  _ Finn tries to reach out through the Force like she’s been teaching him; if she’s been hurt, he’ll be able to feel her, right?

But no. There’s nothing, she’s too far away. If Rey was hurt, he would know it, surely he would feel it.

Control Room A-50 opens up before him; a nest of blinking lights and glowing holo-boards and technicians running in all directions. They all freeze when the door slides open. They all look at him.

That’s not what worries him, though.

It’s General Organa striding toward him that sends a chill down his back.

“Finn.” The General grips his arms and looks at him with sorrow written in the wrinkles of her face.

“Where is she? What’s happened?”

The General frowns. “Who?”

“ _ Rey _ . What’s happened to Rey?”

For a moment, the General stares. And then her face sags.

“Oh, no. Finn…” Her grip tightens on his arm. “Finn, it’s not Rey. It’s—“

“Poe.”

And then it’s like all the earth overhead is crashing down on Finn’s shoulders. The force of it takes his breath away. Like a punch to his stomach.  _ Poe _ . It can’t be. It can’t. Poe…Poe is invincible. Untouchable. Nothing could ever happen--Finn could never imagine or bear anything happening—to Poe.

Organa is talking, her voice blurred by the pounding of blood in his ears. “He’s been running recon in the F’gathi system, trying to find a spot to settle refugees of a planet the Order’s taken. The Order showed up in F’gathi this morning. We don’t know how they found him—“

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“There was no time.” Organa is leading him over to a control panel. Her voice is dangerously soft. “Finn, his ship’s been hit. He’s driven the Order away, but…BB-8’s reports indicate that the damage is critical.”

“So find him a landing spot.” Finn’s throat is parched. Like he hasn’t drunk water in a thousand years.

“There is none. F’gathi’s atmosphere is poisonous to humans, and Poe’s ship is in bad shape. If he tries enter space or make a jump…it’ll fall apart. But we do have a line to him.” She’s holding a headset. Offering it to him.

It’s like he’s underwater. That’s what this is. Like he’s seeing all this from a far away place, barely feeling his own body move. This isn’t real.

“There has to be something,” he chokes. “There’s always something.”

Leia presses the headset into his hands, and then moves in close and kisses Finn’s temple. Her lips are dry on his skin, but soft. “There’s right now.”

Shaking, trembling, Finn puts the set on, nestles the buds into his ears.

A world of sound hits him. Static washes over his eardrums like an ocean, and in the background is the blaring of alarms and what must be BB-8’s frantic chirping.

And someone’s breathing.

Poe’s breathing.

“Come in, this is Black Leader. Do you read me?” It’s Poe. It’s his voice, but twisted. Tainted with fear.

Finn makes himself draw a breath.

“Poe? Is that you? Are you alright?”

“ _ Finn _ .” Something squeezes in his chest when Poe says his name. The way he says it…it sounds like a prayer, or the first drink somebody’s had in a long, long time. “Finn, I’m great. Lot of dead First Order scouts behind me. I think I got them early enough; nobody knows about this place but us now.”

“What about your ship?”

“That’s a little tougher to explain.”

Something like a sob wrenches itself out of Finn’s throat, but he tamps it down. He has to keep himself together, he has to. For Poe.

“Poe, we can find you a safe landing site. There’s--“

“There’s nowhere to land. Acid ocean. The hull’s comprised, Finn. If I stay flying up here, I’ll choke on the atmosphere.”

The cold honesty of it makes Finn squeeze his eyes shut. The world goes dark, and all that he can feel is Poe, talking directly to him but not able to be touched. Like he’s already a ghost.

“Listen, when I pass out from the atmosphere here, BB-8 will override the ship and force a soft landing. He’ll survive the acid long enough for the First Order to track him here again and then this place will be crawling with them.”

“So let him. Let us come find you.”

“There probably wouldn’t be anything left of me to find.” Poe’s voice is soft. So, so soft. “Either way, I’m going in that water, Finn. But one of those ways saves a lot of people.”

Finn hiccups. “No. Poe, you might survive the ocean. I’ll get Rey, she’ll know what to do. She will. She can fix this.”

Something explodes in the background, followed by panicked beeping from BB-8.

“There’s not enough time.” Poe says finally, and then coughs. It’s a horrible sound. Not like a normal cough, but deeper, rattling and wet.  _ He’s dying _ , Finn thinks. “I have to make sure this place is safe for the refugees. Their species will love it here.”

_ But I love  _ you _.  _ He screams it into the Force, because saying it isn’t enough. Maybe—maybe if he can push all of his love into the Force, Poe will feel it.

Finn grits his teeth.  _ He isn’t a ghost. Not yet. _

“Please…don’t do this. We have time, we can work it out.” Even as he’s saying the words Finn can feel their hollowness, rattling like an empty cage.

Another round of tiny explosions. Each rings in his ear like a death bell.

“Finn,” Poe says again, and this time all the static and toxic atmosphere and smoke that Finn can swear he smells fades away and it’s like Poe is standing right next to him, talking in his ear. “I’m going to put it down. Hard. So that there’s nothing left for anyone to track. This is my choice.”

He falls silent.

“Finn?”

“I’m here,” Finn sniffs and wipes his nose on his sleeve.

“I’ve been mulling it over, and…I think I’m going to let you keep my jacket. Not to share with me, but to keep for good, you know?”

It crushes him. It’s a hammer blow right between his shoulder blades and every bone in his body breaks at once. The jacket is in Finn’s quarters, laying on the bed where he slept wearing it night before (or whenever he slept last, he can’t remember), like he always does when Poe’s on missions.

“A-alright.”

“Take good care of it. That’s genuine Bontha leather. Very rare.”

Finn gasps out a choking sob. “You got it.”

Through the headset, the air begins to whine. He knows what it means. That Poe’s ship is dipping towards the surface.

“Wash it only in cold water. Every two weeks, on the dot. Don’t you dare forget, understood? I love…I love that jacket.”

“You know, I never told that jacket how much I loved it.” Finn hiccups again. “Because I really do. More than anything.”

“I’m sure it knows,” Poe says. “You could never take your eyes off it.”

“I’ll remember how to take care of it. I promise. I’ll never—“ Finn presses his forehead into the control panel. “I’ll never forget.”

“Finn, I—“

Poe’s voice cuts out.

And the world collapses.

The dam breaks and Finn  _ howls _ . He crumples into someone’s arms, someone is saying something to him but it doesn’t matter because he’s gone.  _ He’s gone he’s gone he’s gone _ . Finn can feel it. A gaping and ragged hole in the Force.

He touches that empty pit, and the darkness of it pushes into his head and pushes him to the floor.

_ He’s gone. _

Someone is holding him. Pressing him against her chest. The General. She’s rocking him back and forth and her mouth is pressed into the top of his head. He knows what she feels like in the Force; she was the one who taught him, after all.

_ He’s gone. He’s gone. _

It’s her aura now that washes over his mind. It doesn’t quench the burning fires, but it soothes them like a rainstorm or an incoming tide. He lets her do it. He doesn’t have the strength to stop her.

Because he knows that no matter what happens, it won’t be okay.

Nothing will be okay for a long time.

He slips beneath the surface of Leia’s calm. The last bubbles of his despair slip from his mouth like air and pop on the surface; he watches them go.

Finn sinks deeper, and the all the light in the world winks out, leaving only black. 


	2. Resurrection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe slams into waking.
> 
> It happens all at once, the rushing of breath into his lungs and the opening of his eyelids, happens so fast that Poe reaches out to catch himself.
> 
> It takes him a minute to gain his bearings. Sunlight is streaming across the room--sunlight. Room. He’s in a room, he’s in a bed, naked except for the sheets covering his body.
> 
> Poe frowns. He tries to think back to how he got here, but his memories shy away from him. He was...he was flying. That much he is sure of. Or was that the dream?
> 
> **
> 
> Part 2 of the Captain America AU thing! The post-credits scene from First Avenger, only this time with Poe waking up from a decades-long freezing and reuniting with some old faces...

Rey is meditating on the precipice of the universe when a hurricane bursts through her door. 

She wrinkles her nose (not that her face needs more wrinkles) and sighs. The Force had been flowing so well through her body, just like it had when she was young. Not that she’s lost any of her connection with that power as she’s aged; far from it. 

No, she can feel the Force just fine. Nowadays it’s simply a trick of getting herself to concentrate on one thing long enough too--

“Master Rey! Master  _ Rey! _ ” 

“There’s no need to shout, young one.” Rey opens one eye. “My vision may be poor, but my ears work just fine.”

The youngling looks at the floor. “Sorry. It’s just…” He squirms as she makes him wait. Finally, Rey can’t take it any longer. A grin spreads across her face and she reaches over and pulls the little Togruta into her lap. He giggles and squirms around even more. 

“Yes? What is it, then? You were eager to tell me something?” She tickles the child until he’s gasping for air. Every time he starts talking again, she tickles him harder. Finally they’re both laughing so much that she’s the one who’s losing breath. 

The youngling rolls off her lap and onto the temple floor, his Force energy dancing around the cavernous room like an aurora, so bright she can almost see it. “Master Rey, I have a  _ message! _ ” He says, straightening out his robes. “From the Wookie. He says it’s important.”

“Wookie...?” The youngling nods. Rey closes her eye and...ah, there he is; Chewbacca. Wookies have never been strong in the Force, but either way, Rey could never mistake her friend’s signature on Ahch-To.

“What is this important message, young one?”

“Well...my Shyriiwook isn’t great, but…” The youngling looks to the ceiling, far above their heads and glowing with luminous crystals. He clears his throat. “ _ For Master Rey’s ears only, do you understand, kid? _ ”

“I quite like your verbatim,” Rey says, smiling softly. 

“Thanks!  _ Tell her to get her wrinkled a--...behind to D’Qar as soon as she can. We’ve found something--someone. A crashed ship in the F’gathi system.” _

_ F’gathi.  _

She hasn’t heard that word in a long time.

Rey opens her eyes fully. 

Her vision has waned over the long decades, but that has only given her more clarity of sight through the Force. Instead of colors, she more easily sees the energy of living things. It flows in bright streams of light through the air and through bodies, and it never fails to astound her. 

“Go and tell C-3PO to ready a cruiser, child.” Rey touches the youngling’s hand. “Make haste now.” 

“What is it, Master Rey? Who was the Wookie talking about?”

Slowly, slowly, she stands. A long sigh escapes her lungs. 

“A ghost.”

 

***

 

_ Poe? Is that you? Are you alright? _

_ Finn. _

Light flashes before his eyes. The hot air kisses his skin. 

_ Nobody knows about this place but us now. _

_ What about your ship? _

_ That’s a little tougher to explain. _

His lungs hurt. It’s like each breath is drawing knives into his body. The air has turned sour. The warmth is prickling at his skin.

_...let us come find you. _

_ There probably wouldn’t be anything left of me to find.  _

Sirens are blaring. Somebody is screaming at him and it hits him, the memory of it is so rock solid that it takes his painful breath away _. _

Images flash through his head. Fuzzy at first, but clearer and clearer. Vertigo fills his stomach. 

_ Please don’t do this.  _

_ This is my choice.  _

He is falling. All at once he can feel it; he is streaking towards a planet like a meteor. The screaming in his ears is louder now, the nausea in his stomach and the fire in his lungs. His head is spinning, spinning, floating away in space, he should really catch it before it gets too far…

_ I think I’m going to let you keep my jacket.  _

_ A-alright. _

_ Take good care of it.  _

_ You got it.  _

Something is rushing up to meet him. A looming wall of black that he has imagined a hundred times. It is time for this dream to end. He is ready for it to end, for it all to end. 

_ I l o v e . . . I   l o v e  t h a t  j a  c  k   e     t   .  _

_ I  ’   l   l     n    e    v   e    r      f   o   r  g   e   t.  _

_ F i    n       n      ,              I          - _

 

 

Poe slams into waking. 

It happens all at once, the rushing of breath into his lungs and the opening of his eyelids, happens so fast that Poe reaches out to catch himself. 

It takes him a minute to gain his bearings. Sunlight is streaming across the room--sunlight. Room. He’s in a room, he’s in a  _ bed,  _ naked except for the sheets covering his body.

Poe frowns. He tries to think back to how he got here, but his memories shy away from him. He was...he was flying. That much he is sure of. Or was that the dream?

That awful sense of vertigo rises again in his gut and Poe keels over on the bed and vomits, except nothing comes up but an orangish liquid. His eyes wander across the room. Drab, cramped, plastered with posters to hide the grey cement walls: a Resistance bunker room. That makes sense. If he got hurt on a mission, he would have gone to the medbay and been brought to his room after they cleared him. 

The door to the quarters slides open and a young woman steps through. She’s dressed in Resistance junior officer browns and tans with boots that come up to her ankles, frizzy black hair forming a halo around her head. 

“Mr. Dameron? I have your medication.” The officer produces a paper cup from behind the clipboard she’s clutching. 

Clutching. 

Something turns over uneasily in Poe’s stomach, and it’s not because he’s naked. 

That’s when he notices the holo playing on the bedside table. It’s a news report from General Organa’s favorite channel, describing a recent skirmish with the First Order near the Guntai system. The New Republic is refusing to confirm anything. 

“Mr. Dameron.” The little paper cup is pushed into his eyesight. The officer is standing over his bed, holding it out to him. Poe can hear the pills rattling. 

He looks at the nurse. She won’t meet his eyes. “Where am I?” 

She smiles, but her eyes don’t. “In a living quarters in the Resistance base on D’Qar. I’m sorry, yours is occupied with medical overfl-”

“Where am I really?”

The smile falters. 

“I-I’m afraid I don’t understand.” 

“The battle. It’s one of the Resistance’s proudest victories. I know because I was there.” Poe stands, lets the sheets fall away from his body. He doesn’t care. 

Even though the nurse is a head taller than him, she shrinks away. “Now I’m going to ask you again:  _ who are you? _ ”

“Mr. Dameron--”

The door slides open again, only this time there are soldiers on the other side, not nurses. 

Poe doesn’t think. He reacts.

He shoves the nurse into the nearest soldier (he doesn’t recognize their uniform, nor the insignia emblazoned on it) and elbows the next in the jaw. That clears path big enough for him to squeeze through, and then he’s running, running, running. He can practically hear General Organa in his head:  _ if the Order takes you prisoner, we won’t be staging a rescue. We don’t have the resources. You’ll be on your own.  _

He twists and turns down halls that he doesn’t recognize, shoving through startled-looking people. Somewhere in his head Poe is dimly aware that sirens are crying and that there are footsteps behind him. Shouting. 

He pushes himself harder. 

Through a large gate, down this hall, get to the control room,  _ find a schematic, haul ass to the hangar, steal a ship and high-tail it back to the Resistance _ \--

Poe charges through another door and the world opens up before him. He stops short, sliding across the slick floor. He’s in the single largest hangar he’s ever seen; people mill about on hovercrafts and the room itself stretches into what seems like infinity. 

In the time it takes him to get his bearings, the troops have formed a circle around him, weapons pointed. Poe doesn’t move. If they think they’re going to take him prisoner, they have another thing coming.

“Come on then!” He shouts into the nearest barrel. “Do it!”

“That’s being a little dramatic, don’t you think?” 

Suddenly, a wave of calm washes over Poe’s mind, and he doesn’t feel quite so much like taking a bullet to his forehead. He wonders for the millionth time today,  _ what’s happening? _ “Stand down, boys and girls. I’ll take it from here.”

The soldiers--no, security guards, now that he’s really getting a look at them and their stun weapons--part to allow an old woman to walk through their ranks. She’s a small creature, dressed in grey woven Jedi robes, wrinkled but straight-backed. A shock of electricity pulses down Poe’s ribs. It’s the hair that gives her away. He could never forget that style. 

“ _ Rey? _ ” He breathes. And suddenly the world is tilting around him. His eyes can’t comprehend what they’re seeing. It’s Rey, it’s undeniably her, but she’s so...so  _ old _ . Beyond old; ancient. 

All of a sudden, Poe is very aware that he’s standing, sweating and breathing like a wild beast. Naked. 

“It’s good to see you too, Poe.” Rey totters over and reaches out her arms for a hug. “A lot more of you than I bargained for.” 

Poe laughs into her shoulder. The woman before him may be old, but her arms grip his torso with surprising strength. Rey buries her head in his chest. “I’ve missed you,” she says, before pulling away and taking his face in her hands. The old woman smiles up at him, her eyes swimming with tears.

“And take this. You’re embarrassing yourself.” Rey sniffs and wipes her eyes and shrugs off her robe. It only reaches to about Poe’s knees, but he’ll take it. The robe is scratchy and even smells like his old friend.

“I imagine you have some questions.”

“Yeah, you imagine.”

“Come then, walk with me.” Rey takes off down the hangar floor, and Poe jogs to catch up. How is an old woman so fast? “Look, I’m sorry about that little show back there, but we thought it might be better to ease you into it.” 

“Ease me into what?” He asks it even though he knows, deep down, the sickening truth of it. He needs to hear her say it.

Rey stops for a moment and looks at him. 

“You’ve been asleep, Poe. For almost 90 years. I’m sorry.”

He nods. There’s nothing else he can do. His whole body feels sort of numb, mind included. Sort of like all his thoughts are swimming through syrup. Or a dark, thick ocean.

Something poisonous moves in the bottom of that ocean. A thought so painful he doesn’t even think of thinking it, but drowns it instead. 

Rey is still talking as she resumes her power walk. “Well, not asleep, exactly. More like in stasis. Much like carbon freezing, except you came by it naturally.” 

“Came by it…” An explosion flashes in Poe’s mind. He can feel the vertigo, the ship tilting downwards towards the ocean. 

“How much do you remember?” Rey asks, her voice soft. 

Poe squeezes his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose. He can smell the acrid air and hear BB-8’s panicked bleeping and the jittering of the control stick in his hands. “I remember...going down.”

Rey nods. “You had just fought off a pack of First Order scouts, defending a new home for some refugees. Your ship was badly hit. You made the choice--”

“ _ I’m going to put it down. Hard,”  _ Poe whispers. 

The deep thought stirs. He pushes it deeper.

If he lets it out now, he’ll break.

“Yes. And you did.” They’ve arrived at a marked-off landing zone in the hangar. Orange lights flash in the floor, and from beyond the shield doors Poe can make out a transport preparing to dock. 

“Were you...did you…” Poe doesn’t quite know how to say what he’s wondering. 

“No. I heard about it later.” Rey produces a small metal rod from her belt that extends into a long walking stick. When she leans on it, Poe notices the silver lightsaber swinging on her belt. “We assumed you dead. The last vitals BB-8 sent while he was still transmitting had your heart rate as flat, or close enough that it made no difference.”

“BB-8 was still transmitting? After that crash?”

“For a minute or two. My tough little guy.” Rey flashes a quick grin. “But not as tough as you.”

“How did I--”

“Survive an acid ocean with a pH high enough to melt through durasteel? That took us a while to figure out, too. I was called in to...revive you once they had broken you out of the shell.”

“Shell?”

“Remember what I said about carbon freezing?” There’s a glint in Rey’s eye that Poe recognizes. It’s the kind she gets when she’s going on about this new converter part or that new hyper whatsit that she’s installed in the  _ Falcon _ . “As it turns out, during your time in the Resistance, General Organa was buying discount ship coolant from AutoPlex Industries because a nonexistent budget.”

Poe raises an eyebrow. “That’s...wonderful?”

“It was for you, buddy. I’m getting there.” Rey knocks his leg with her staff. “You see, normal X-Wing coolant is manufactured with thoridium somewhere in the chemical makeup. But thoridium’s expensive, so AutoPlex uses a synthetic mithol compound instead. Now, mithol is normally a very boring little molecule except--”

“--when you put it in acid,” Poe finishes. He knows where this is going.

“Exactly. Mithol becomes squirmy around hydrogen and reacts pretty violently. Long story short, its chemical structure becomes crystalline. It _ solidifies _ .” 

“And my ship was--”

“--flooded with coolant yes, coolant containing lots and lots of mithol.” Rey’s talking speeds up until she’s almost tripping over her own words. “As soon as your ship touched that acid,  _ bam _ , it became encased in a compound nobody had ever even heard of before, or had forgotten about. And so were you.”

“I was...frozen?” Poe frowns. He tries to think back, but there is no memory of him hitting the water. He cannot for all the credits in the world remember what the moment of death feels like. 

“Yes. Completely. Your body processes slowed, you were protected from the acid, and you just...sat there. For decades. There was no problem with cell bursting because, well, what you were frozen in wasn’t cold.”

The docking ship is swinging into the hangar now, tiny red lights flashing all over its body.

“From there it was only a matter of time until F’gathi’s new residents found you. They were eager to pay back their debt.”

“They saved me?”

“Them and a lot of lucky chemistry.” 

All around Poe, hangar assistants are scurrying to and fro holding flashing sticks or datapads or any other amount of tools that look familiar but are foreign to Poe at the same time. It makes sense that he wouldn’t know the technology 90 years into the future.

_ 90 years.  _ The thought brings a swell of nausea. It’s incomprehensible. Like being told that a whole star system has been obliterated; hard to feel for because the number is larger than anything you could imagine. 

_ 90 years. _ All of his friends would be dead. Jessika, Snap, all of them. Gone. The only reason Rey has survived so long probably has something to do with the Force.

The nausea is replaced by an ache emanating from deep in his chest. Poe doesn’t want to be standing in the hangar anymore. He feels exposed. Wet and tired. What he really wants is to be burrowed in his bed, covers pulled up to his chin. What he really wants is--

The unthinkable thought stirs in the deep ocean and opens a pair of glowing yellow eyes. It begins to swim towards the surface of his mind.

Rey’s hand is on his arm again.

“Poe, I have to tell you something.”

“We aren’t done yet?” His feeble attempt at smile dies before it lives.

She shakes her head. “The reason I was called in, the real reason--”

“Rey,” Poe says, feeling lightheaded. 

“--I had to place mental blocks in your head,” Rey presses on. “We wanted to be as cautious as possible.”

“Rey. Please.”

“I’ve been removing them since you woke up.”

“Why are we in a hangar?  _ Rey _ \--” Questions that aren’t questions. Questions he knows the answers to but can’t say. Half-forgotten words that are feelings instead.

“Nothing about this is easy, but--”

The evil thing breaks the surface. 

And it

all 

comes 

through 

at 

once.

“ _ Tell me where Finn is! _ ” 

He doesn’t mean to shout it. He doesn’t mean to start crying, either, but he is, tears streaming down his face. Ugly, fat tears. And then he’s feeling it all, all the emotions flooding through his head, emotions that no Jedi trick in the universe could hold back for long. 

_ Finn, I-- _

_ Finn, I-- _

_ Finn, I-- _

His final words catch in his head and repeat. A broken holo-record. A terrible fire scorches his chest and all at once his legs forget how to work and Poe stumbles. Rey catches him, but he pushes away.

“ _ Where is he!” _

He needs to hear her say it. He needs to hear the finality of it because _this wasn’t how it was supposed to go._ _He_ was supposed to be the one who left. _He_ was supposed to be the one who took the exit, not him. Not Finn. Poe isn’t strong enough to be the one who’s left behind. He can’t. He can’t be here, in this galaxy, without him. He isn’t strong enough. _He isn’t strong enough._

Steel hands grab at his arms and his ribs and drag him backwards. 

Poe reflexively shoots an elbow out behind him like they were taught in Resistance defense classes and catches someone on the jaw. Hard. His attacker grunts out an “ _ oopmh” _ and they both go down, Poe landing on top. Someone smacks their head on the floor with an audible  _ crack _ .

Poe rolls away and tries to stand but the world turns at insane angles around him and he ends up sprawling on the hangar floor. The taste of blood fills his mouth. Before he can move, the lights above are winked out by the shape of a person and his wrists and legs are pinned to the floor. Feebly, he struggles, but it’s no use. His attacker is much stronger than he is. That, or the head that hit the floor belonged to Poe, he can’t quite think straight enough to figure it out. 

“Poe.  _ Poe _ , stop it!” 

“G’off me!”

“For the gods’ sake, will you calm down?” 

There’s a face above his. That’s interesting. Slowly, slowly, Poe’s vision swims back into focus.

He realizes he’s staring Death in the eyes. 

A crazy laugh bubbles up from Poe’s chest. He can’t help it. He can’t take this anymore. Whatever tricks his mind is playing on him, he’s done. Let his head do what it wants. Poe was done with all this 90 years ago. Peace out.

“Is he finished?”

“Yeah, but I think he hit his head pretty hard.” 

“Always one for dramatics, our Poe.”

The weight on Poe’s limbs shifts and blood flows back into his extremities. The face of Death still blocks out the overhead lights, however. They glow behind him like a perverse halo.

“Poe, can you see me?”

“See you?” Poe hiccups and laughs again. “I’ve been sleeping with you for 90 years. I’m not scared of you.”

Death frowns. “Ok, buddy. How many fingers am I holding up?” 

“Three.”

“Close enough. At least you’re not brain damaged. Rey, can you call my med team down here? He’s bleeding.” Death turns back to Poe. “C’mon, let’s get you sitting up.” 

Arms slide under his back and hoist Poe upright. Somehow gravity changes directions and he falls a little, but is caught by those same strong arms and tucked beside a warm chest. Why is Death warm? 

“That better?”  
Poe blinks. “Yeah.” And it is. The blood begins to return to his head and his thoughts settle down to the bottom like drifting sediment. Poe coughs and spits a glob of blood on to the floor. He takes another look around the hangar; his vision has cleared up for the most part, and even though he’s still leaning heavily against Rey’s chest, at least he’s not hallucinating any longer. 

“So,” Rey says in a decidedly not-Rey voice. “Your first reaction to seeing me was to elbow me in the jaw?”

A lightning bolt slams down Poe’s spine as if it were a metal rod in a rainstorm. He flies out of the lap he’s sitting in and crawls several feet away. 

He turns around.

Death is still sitting there, looking at him with his boyfriend’s eyes. 

“You’re dead,” Poe breathes. “Stop it.” He squeezes his eyes shut and presses his palms against them until lights dance on the inside of his eyelids and tears slip out. “Stop it.  _ You’re dead. _ ” Is this a trick? He can’t take it if it is. He won’t.

“Poe,” Death says, and crawls the gap between them. “Poe.” Slowly, slowly, his hands touch Poe’s shoulders, and when Poe doesn’t move, the hands slide around his back. Poe doesn’t open his eyes, doesn’t acknowledge the touch, but sits absolutely still. He doesn’t know what to think. Nothing makes sense in his head. 

“You’re dead,” Poe whispers into Death’s shoulder. There’s almost no space between them now. Poe is in his lap again, legs curled. He refuses to let himself feel that tiny spark of hope. He doesn’t want to be hurt that way. He won’t survive that fall. “You’re dead.” 

He looks up at Rey, his vision clouded with tears. “Is this what you wanted to tell me? That I’m insane now? Is this what you were protecting me from?”

“Poe, look at me. I’m not dead.” Those warm hands disappear from his back and cup his jaw and turn his face so so gently. Poe shivers at the touch. Thumbs rub the spot just below his ears. “Look at me.”

And he does. 

He looks Death in the face.

Finn is just like he remembers, past that foggy space of decades and the few weeks of mission time that he had been away before. Finn’s face is soft and round and inarguably handsome, with lips that Poe had wanted to kiss since the moment he saw them. When he had kissed those lips for the first time, Poe’s heart had glowed brighter than a newborn star.

The lips in front him are those same lips. Not a hallucination. That nose is the same nose that tickles him when Finn’s kissing Poe’s jawline. That tiny eyebrow scar is the same scar that Finn got when they were trying a new position in bed and later they told everyone later that he slipped and fell, which wasn’t technically a lie.

It’s the same Finn in front of him who rescued Poe from death the first time. Maybe a few years older; there is some stubble on Finn’s cheeks that wasn’t there when Poe last saw him, a few extra lines around the eyes. But this is not an elderly Finn with two feet in the grave. This Finn is inarguably young.

Poe allows himself to feel the tiniest, most miniscule atom of hope. 

“I’m not dead.” Finn’s thumbs are tracing the line of Poe’s jaw. Poe leans into those huge, warm hands and lets a shudder of delight travel down to his stomach. He can’t tear his eyes away from Finn’s. An irrational part of him is afraid that if he looks away, Finn will disappear like a wisp of smoke. 

Poe can’t stop himself from crying, but he doesn’t much care right now. “How?” Is all that he can choke out.

“I went away to help people.” Finn closes the last bit of space between them, drawing Poe into a sort of sitting hug. Their chests press together, their heads come to rest on each other’s shoulders. “Their culture forbids non Force-sensitive beings on-world, so I was the only choice. But their planet was far beyond the galaxy. In what used to be a weapons testing field used by the First Order.”

Poe doesn’t trust himself to talk.

“His lightspeed trip took 43 years both ways in our time. Only a few months for him.” Rey’s staff clunks onto the floor beside them. “He missed an awful lot. But we worked through all of that a long time ago.” She smiles softly, and bends down with a spectacular crackling of her knees. “This is what I was going to tell you, Poe. But like I said; we wanted to ease you into it. If you had woken normally, your first thought would have been of Finn, and then I never would have been able to calm you down long enough to talk any sense into your thick head.”

With another round of cracks, Rey stands and puts a hand on Poe’s shoulders. “Come to my ship later, the two of you. We have a lot of catching up to do. And a little droid wants to say hello.” Her voice is soft, her smile sad but crinkling her eyes at the same time. Poe watches her walk away. 

He only trusts himself with monosyllabic phrases. “Why? Were...you weren’t…”

“I wanted to help.” Finn pulls away from their embrace and holds Poe at arm’s length. His hands tighten around his shoulders. “Poe, I swear to you that I wasn’t running away. I swear. I used to be a part of the Order. In one way or another, I helped create the pain they caused to that system, and I had a chance to fix it.” 

“You weren’t running.”

“Honestly? Maybe a little.” Finn smiles a tight smile. “But I could never get away from you.”

And then a new round of tears is overflowing down Poe’s face and he hiccup-sobs and wrenches forward into Finn’s chest. 

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles against Finn’s shirt and the warm muscles beneath it. “I’m so, so sorry.” 

_ I’ll never forget. _

_ Finn, I-- _

_ Finn, I-- _

“Don’t be.”

“No. I just....” How can he express this in words? How could he ever encapsulate the enormity of it? “I felt it. Just now. That emptiness. I felt a world without you and I couldn’t even take it for a  _ second _ .” He balls up the shirt in his fists. How can he be so tired after just having slept for 90 years?

“I went crazy without you.”

“You weren’t crazy,” Finn says softly.

“I went crazy without you, but I have you here. You...I was…” Poe chokes on his words. He tries to force them out. “I left you, Finn. And I was so busy trying to be a hero that I didn’t...I never even considered....” He looks up at Finn, at his beautiful boyfriend. Are they still boyfriends? So much time has passed for Finn. Years spent thinking Poe was dead. Nothing makes sense anymore. Everything that was rock solid in his life has decayed with the march of decades. 

Poe searches Finn’s eyes, and then he can’t take the eye contact anymore. “How can you forgive me? For doing that to you?” 

A pause. Poe’s heart flutters on the edge of a knife. He doesn’t deserve Finn. Not after what he did to him. 

“I  _ was  _ mad at you. Furious, actually.” Poe swallows and squeezes his eyes shut as he listens. “The grief got a little better, and then I wanted to kill you all over again. Those were the worst years of my life.”

Poe wishes he were back in the acid ocean. Gods, he wishes he could shrivel up and disappear. 

And then Finn’s hand is cupping Poe’s jaw again and tilting his face upwards again. Poe looks into Finn’s face and squints through his blurry vision like he’s staring into the sun. 

Finn’s words are low, husky with emotion. “But I had time to think. Lots of time. And Poe...I’ve...I forgive you.”

“How?” Poe chokes. 

“Because when I fell for you, I fell for  _ all  _ of you. Your stupid, idiotic, incredibly selfish, heroic tendencies included. That’s who you are, Poe.”

_ Finn, I-- _

_ Finn, I-- _

“That’s who you are, and I can’t change it. I wouldn’t change it. So...I forgive you.”

Then, _ then, _ Finn shifts his legs so he can scoot closer to Poe on the floor, and he leans in and grabs the back of Poe’s head and kisses him. His big, soft lips kiss Poe’s ears and his neck and his cheeks and his mouth,  _ gods _ , Finn kisses Poe’s mouth so long and hard that Poe thinks he might pass out, but he would never pull away. Finn sucks on Poe’s lower lip, his other hand grabbing his chest below his armpit and pulling him close. 

Poe kisses him back, of course. Kissing Finn lights a sparkler in his brain. _ Finn forgives me. _ He left Finn, but Finn forgives him. Does he even want that forgiveness? Maybe it doesn’t matter what he wants. Maybe thinking about what he wants right now is being selfish. 

He kisses Finn back. He drapes his arms over Finn’s shoulders and uses the leverage to press into Finn’s kisses. The taste of Finn’s mouth, the smell of Finn’s clothes and his skin; it invades Poe’s brain and lights his neurons on fire, incinerating any remaining cobwebs from his sleep. Poe doesn’t care that they are in the middle of a crowded public hangar on what is most likely a New Republic government star cruiser. He doesn’t give a damn, actually. All he wants is the man before him.

_ Finn, I-- _

“I missed you,” Finn says in between kisses, his breath hot on Poe’s face. That’s when Poe realizes Finn is crying. Not just a few tears, either, but jerking sobs that wrack his body. “I missed you so much.” 

Finn pulls away to wipe his eyes on his sleeves, but that only serves to open the floodgates. Suddenly it’s like the Finn before him is crumbling, breaking apart in chunks.

“It’s okay.” This time it’s Poe’s turn to hug Finn and put his head against his chest. For a few moments, all Finn does is cry and grip Poe so tightly it hurts.

Finn takes a shuddering breath and sniffs wetly, blinking in rapid succession. “I forgive you. But don’t you ever  _ fucking _ do that to me again.”

He can’t help it; a little laugh bubbles in Poe’s stomach, which grows into a chuckle, and then Finn catches it and starts chuckling too, and then they’re sitting there like goons, laughing and crying at the same time and not caring who sees. Poe grabs Finn and hugs him so hard his heart hurts.

“Finn, I--” Poe blurts it before he can think, and instantly he feels Finn tense up. He knows the words. The last ones. 

And Poe closes his eyes. He’s back in his X-Wing again, with the air scorching his lungs and his seat shuddering as the ship around it falls apart. 

_ I think I’m going to let you keep my jacket.  _

_ A-alright. _

_ Take good care of it.  _

_ You got it.  _

_ I l o v e . . . I   l o v e  t h a t  j a  c  k   e     t   .  _

_ I  ’   l   l     n    e    v   e    r      f   o   r  g   e   t.  _

_ F i    n       n      ,              I          - _

  
  
  


“Finn, I--I Iove you.” 

 

That shuts the both of them up. 

Neither of them have said it before. The L-bomb. They’ve been dating for a while now, or were dating... _ whatever _ , but the L-bomb had never been dropped. 

Until now. 

“Of course.”

“Of course?” 

There were a lot of things Poe expected Finn might say, but that wasn’t one of them. 

Finn’s smile returns, crinkling his eyes a little. “ _ Of course  _ that’s what you were going to say. Poe Dameron, only you are enough of a drama king to tell me you love me right before you’re about to die and then get  _ cut off _ .” 

A heartbeat later and Finn’s kissing him again. “I love you too, you big idiot.” His face is centimeters away from Poe’s. Their foreheads touch, and then their noses and then their mouths and chins. “To the moons and back.” 

Just then, a large weight bowls into Poe’s side, knocking him on his butt. The droid leans into Poe, twittering and whimpering with relief. 

“Hey, buddy, hey.” Poe laughs and rubs BB-8 on his dome-like head. “Good to see you, too.” 

 

***

 

Time passes. Normally Poe wouldn’t notice, but in the last hour or two he’s become a little more aware of how he’s spending his minutes. Eventually they pick themselves up off the floor and go in search of Rey’s ship. But it’s a big cruiser, and Jedi travel with economy, not style, which makes their quest like finding a compressor bolt in a toolbox. They get sidetracked in their searching. 

Which is fine by the two of them. They wander back to Finn’s transport, which has a tiny cabin tucked away in its belly. Finn’s bed is small as well, but warm, and it smells like him.

Their shirts come off first. They talk in each other’s arms. Talk and talk and talk, because there is so much that Poe’s missed.  But he doesn’t hear half of what Finn’s telling him because he’s busy drinking in his boyfriend’s face or kissing his lips or running his hands along Finn’s body. His fingers brush over the long and ragged scar on Finn’s back, but if Finn notices, he doesn’t react. 

It’s late by the time they’re naked. Both of them are exhausted, both glad to have nothing separating them. Poe presses every inch of skin he can against Finn. He curls up against Finn’s stomach, and Finn lays one arm over his chest, interlaces one leg between Poe’s. There is warmth, too, between Finn’s legs, pressing against Poe. But there will be time enough for that later. 

Right now, amazingly, despite nine decades of rest, all Poe wants is to sleep next to Finn. 

So that’s what he does. He drifts off with the rhythm of Finn’s breathing sounding softly in his ears, and sounds of the ship echoing all around them. 

And this time, when he sleeps, he does not face Death. 

This time, he is ready to wake. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I know that the theory of relativity isn't *really* a thing within the Star Wars universe, but...hey. If the glove fits, right?


End file.
